entranceway | M e s s a g e 3 8

[The first thing anyone sees, even before the person posting...is a little pig, in one of the tea rooms. It snuffles and sniffles and sweeps the room for signs of danger, and once it is satisfied it trots away.

Then in a blink, Alice is standing in the middle of the room, pig cradled in her arms. And for the first time ever on the network, her face has wide blue eyes. She's a bit frantic, but otherwise unharmed.]

I think I'm starting to get used to doing that on purpose... Ah, hello everyone! It's...been some time, hasn't it?

[Even Alice can't seem to hide the fact that it's rather awkward to suddenly have eyes when she did not before. The pig squirms and she lets it down, as she's discovered it's wisest to listen to what the Duchess' pig wants.]

I'm so sorry to interrupt everything, but I need to warn you all! Something-- something terrible is going to happen soon! I don't want to cause anyone alarm, but it may very well be the worst thing that's ever happened to you.

[It's all distressing, and Alice crouches down to the pig's level so she can play with it's ears absently as she talks. It lets her.]

I'm afraid I still can't explain how I know, and the details are...rather distressing. But I promise, I'd never lie to all of you! I could never!

[She's adamant about that much at least. Even if her message isn't clear, there's more clarity in the way she speaks about it - she understands the importance of these messages now, in a way she'd forgotten for so long.]

Please, everyone. Take care of yourselves this weekend. I think it may be all you can do.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Before, I-- I'd lost all of my memories of home, so I...I thought I had always been here. So when I say I wasn't truthful, it wasn't that I was lying exactly. I had just...forgotten how important these warnings are. Everything felt sort of like a guessing game. I wasn't myself back then and I'm still not sure I'm one hundred percent myself anymore, but even one percent is better than not at all.

[She sighs. It's all very confusing and complicated for her.]

It's the worst thing that's ever happened to you. Everyone's been upset that isn't enough, but...you'd know better than anyone else what that is, wouldn't you?

[She records the information dutifully, trying to formulate a better follow-up question, until Alice speaks and she feels like something's stabbed her in the heart in sheer panic. She looks up over her journal, pen suddenly stilled.]

What... do you mean by that? That we're literally going to experience that memory?

[No. No no no, of course she knows what that is. She dreams it more than she'd like, even if that cycle was so long ago.]

[Alice nods, and looks particularly regretful. This woman seems like she knows very well what her worst memory is.]

I'm afraid so. ...I'm very sorry. It's not something anyone would want, but...the only consolation I have is that it can be avoided. It will still be there, but...you won't be trapped inside it.

Well, that's... something.

[No, it's not, it's horrible, and shouldn't be something they need to experience, but this obviously isn't this girl's fault. As much as she wants to do something, some real action, she can't. She needs to think.]

Why is it doing this to us? What does this place have to gain from... seeing us suffer?

I wish I knew. It does seem to do that a lot...

[Alice sighs. It's incredibly unfair.]

These sorts of events are caused by the memory of a particular person here. So...there's one person here who's suffered a lot with revisting bad memories, I imagine. But, given how bad memories are, that could be anyone really.

[She looks pensive, trying to shove down that fear, that dawning horror. Fuck. She can't-- she can't worry about this right now. She needs to prepare. She needs to steel herself, or she'll never make it.]

I suppose so. But to think someone has had to relive this, even in their own setting... it's unfortunate. And not just for us.

[Lucretia pauses to sigh, just a bit.]

Thank you for what you could tell us. I'm sure people appreciate at least having some warning.

You're welcome. I'm sorry it couldn't be more, but at least you'll be somewhat ready this time...

[Unlike every other time where the entire population of the mansion has gone into events blindly.]

No, I... appreciate that you have done what you can in a less than ideal circumstance.

[She realizes she's become incredibly unaccustomed to giving her name, and therefore asking for others.]

Who are you, if you don't mind me asking, to have been here so long and know so much?

Oh! I'm sorry. It's rude of me not to introduce myself. I think I got used to people knowing who I was, but honestly it's rather refreshing when someone doesn't.

[She curtsies - such a polite young lady.]

My name is Alice. And who are you?

Oh. Were you the girl who fell?

[She was given the rundown on day 1, but somehow she's still surprised to actually see her... well, exist. She remembers Alice asked her name though, and can't help but smile a bit.]

I, ah, find myself in a similar situation. It has been a long time since someone asked. Regardless. You may call me Lucretia.

[Her own name still doesn't feel right in her mouth, but Madame Director doesn't fit here. With no purpose, she has to go back to being just Lucretia. Just plain Lucretia and the person she tried to become.

She can feel herself drifting, and she begins to sketch Alice in her journal, quick strokes as not to keep her long.]

It's nice to meet you as well.

The girl who fell...not the most flattering description, but I like how it sounds. It makes falling seem so elegant.

[It's certainly nicer than what actually happens when you fall down.]

Likewise! it's nice to meet you as well, Ms. Lucretia.

[The Ms. seems like an important addiction. Lucretia seems like a very dignified lady to Alice.]

Well, if you're going to drive the narrative, a title is only apt.

[Isn't that right, Madame Director? Never let her say she didn't have a flair for the dramatic.]

I appreciate the formality, and the warning. I'll see what I can do to be prepared.

I don't know if it really does. Frankly, I feel more like it's been driving me around.

[That's how Wonderland is though, so it's to be expected.]

You're welcome! Good luck with everything that's coming.

Of course. To yourself, as well. I can't imagine it's easy living at the whims of this place more so than I already do.

[She wants that to be something she laughs at, or a giggle of something, but it's... not quite so much. Not when there's so much at stake.]

I'll hopefully see you again.

Oh, I'm certain we will someday. Wonderland's not as big as it seems sometimes.

[Even with all her hiding, she'll be around again someday.]

And yet, more endless than we seem to comprehend.

[Lucretia finishes off a little note on Alice's entry; a simple one, but still important. Kind. It's what she'll remember.]

Until then.

[And she signs off.]

M e s s a g e 3 8

[video]

[video]

[video]

[video]

[video]

[video]

[video]

Re: [video]

[video]

[video]

[video]

[video]

[video]

[video]

[video]

[video]